It took the two of them to manhandle two of the tarps out of the building, then open them up. By this time, the rain was pouring in earnest, and Olive was grateful the brim of her hat kept some of it from her eyes so she could still see Phineas’s commands. As it was, her spectacles were becoming difficult to peer through, but that wasn’t as difficult as the way her sodden skirts threatened to trip her with each stumbling step.
Trousers?Hell, why not wear breeches? Or short pants!
Anything would be better than these thick skirts.
At least I am not wearing a bustle.
The thought sent an unexpected giggle escaping her lips, but Phineas didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to manhandle the other end of the tarp over the opposite edge of their excavation.
As he’d explained on their first day, the canvas would offer some protection to the soil, which hadn’t been exposed to the erosive qualities of rain in centuries, and whatever artifacts might still remain in it. More importantly, especially considering they both assumed their excavation was likely complete, the rain wouldn’t wash away their careful measurements before they could record everything.
But the canvas was heavier than her skirts, and as the rain beat down, it became heavier still.
Eventually, Phineas was satisfied and gestured to her to precede him to the storage shed. He might’ve said something, but shecouldn’t hear it over the pounding of the rain. She lifted her sodden skirts in both hands and began to run toward shelter, glad when he joined her.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Olive stood shivering as he squeezed around her and reached the old worktable. At some point in the last few days, he’d brought out a new lamp, which he now lit and turned up brightly. The light did much to alleviate the gloom in the small space, but nothing to chase away the chills.
Olive wrapped her arms around herself to try to maintain some of her warmth and watched him bustle about the shed. Luckily, it was fairly clean, and the shelves were mostly empty except for the supplies he’d brought that first day. The piles of canvas still took up most of the floor space, and she wondered if she could use one of the tarps to warm herself.
As she turned to ask him the question, she was surprised to find him holding his dry jacket toward her. Had it been inside the shed all along? It did look terribly warm but…
Wryly, she glanced down at herself. “Thank you, but I suspect I would do it more harm than it would do me any good right now.”
He blinked, then his expression cleared in understanding. “Aye, and the storm doesnae look to end any time soon.” He nodded to the small window on the shed’s north side. “Lucky we had this shelter, I suppose.”
“Aye,” she drawled, imitating him. “Now we just have to keep from freezing to death.”
Chuckling, he tossed his jacket back on the worktable. “I can think of a few things we could try…”
Her breath caught, remembering the embrace they’d shared before the rain started. She glanced out the window, and yes, it was clear they weren’t leaving anytime soon. Which would mean plenty of time to…warm up.
In fact, she was already a bit warmer, wasn’t she?
Her muscles began to relax as Phineas stepped in front of her, his gaze heated. As he lifted his hands, she realized she was holding her breath.
Slowly, without dropping her gaze, Phineas untied the sodden ribbons holding her hat in place. When the backs of his fingers brushed against her jaw, she sucked in a breath so quickly, she became dizzy. And then, as he lifted the blasted thing from her head, Olive’s breaths became jerky and far too fast, as she watched him carefully place it on the worktable.
With infinite care, he reached for her spectacles and pulled them from her face. She couldn’t be quite sure what he was doing, but it seemed as if he’d pulled his shirt from his trousers and wiped the glass. She helped him slide them back onto her nose, and when she could see once more, she enjoyed the show of his untucked shirt.
“Better?” he whispered.
She could see now, and the hat wasn’t flopping in her face, but… “I am still rather chilled.”
His gaze held hers. “We cannae have that,” he murmured, running his hands down her arms to her hips. “If only there was something we could do?—”
Unable to contain her desire for him any longer, Olive surged up on her toes, crushing her lips against his. She thought hemight’ve chuckled, but it was quickly smothered as he took control of the kiss. With her arms around his neck, she held on for dear life, loving the way he felt against her.
Funny. She wasn’t cold at all anymore.
“We should…get ye out of…these wet clothes,” Phineas murmured, as he trailed hot kisses down her jaw to her neck.
“Yes! I knew you were brilliant…” Olive arched her back, giving him better access to her skin as she dropped her hold on him to begin fumbling with her buttons.
He helped, and in moments, the only thing between her skin and his warm, appreciative gaze was her corset. When he hesitated, she reached for his waistcoat.
“Fair is fair,” she told him when he looked as if he might object.
In moments, she had his shirt hanging from his shoulders, and before he could take the time to push it off, she reached for him, running her bare palms up the skin of his sides and loving the way he shuddered under her touch. His torso was lean and well-muscled, and she took the time to trace the ridges of his stomach, and the intriguing vee leading down to where his trousers hung low on his hips.
